Welcome back, friends. Today we're stepping into
week two of our series, After the Wreckage, The
Covenant Remains, where we're walking with the
returned exiles as they try to rebuild a temple
that doesn't quite look like anything from their
memories. Hey guy, chapter two hands us a word
for the weary. The ones staring at smaller stones
and wondering if God still shows up in second
chances. And before we head into the sanctuary
together, let me say this. I know you may be
driving, folding laundry, sitting on a porch,
lying wide awake in the dark. It might be Tuesday
afternoon where you are, but here, right now,
in your headphones, it's Sunday morning. And
you've just wandered into our little church again.
The one without walls. Grace sounds like a familiar
voice coming through a little static. Settle
in, friend. I'll see you on the other side. So,
we are in week two of a series that we are calling
After the Wreckage, The Covenant Remains. And
last week, you were with us. We stood at the
water gate with Ezra and Nehemiah, the remnant
of the people of God, are beginning to return
and rebuild Jerusalem, but things aren't going
super great. And last week we found Ezra and
Nehemiah encouraging the people in the word of
the Lord. The walls were up, but the people themselves
were hollow. And God didn't fix them with brick
and mortar. He fixed them with the word. And
if you recall, they wept when they heard it because
they remembered who they were. This week, we
move forward in the story. The word is returned.
The walls are standing. And now God's people,
they're doing what God's people have always done
after the wreckage. They're building an altar.
They're rebuilding the temple. But here is the
problem. It doesn't look like much. In fact,
it looks embarrassing. Solomon's temple, the
one Nebuchadnezzar leveled 70 years ago, that
temple was the wonder of the ancient world. Cedar
from Lebanon, gold everywhere. The glory of God,
it is said, was so thick in places the priests
couldn't even stand to minister. This temple,
the one that they're stacking stones for here
in 520 BC, it is a shadow. It is a whisper. It
is but leftovers. And there, There are old men
standing in the rubble who remember Solomon's
temple. Who were kids when the Babylonians burned
it down. And they're weeping. Not tears of joy
this time. Tears of shame. Because what they're
building doesn't measure up to what used to be.
And I wonder if you've ever been there. If you've
ever tried to rebuild something that got leveled
to the ground. I mean torn brick by brick. A
marriage, a ministry, a relationship, a sense
of purpose, and the best you could do feels like
an insult compared to what it used to be. That's
where we are this morning in Haggai chapter 2.
That's the wreckage we're standing in today.
The year is 520 B .C. Jerusalem, the 21st day
of the seventh month. The foundation of the temple
has been laying. The stones are going up, but
the work has slowed to a crawl because the people
who are building it can't stop looking backward.
There are men with calloused hands standing in
the courtyard, holding hammers that haven't swung
in weeks. There are women carrying water jars
who stopped halfway to the cistern just to stare
at the skeleton of the building as of what once
was. One that never will be, can never be as
good as the old one. And in the middle of all
of it, There's a man named Haggai, a prophet,
an old man with a message from God. And God tells
him, go find Zerubbabel. Go find Joshua, the
high priest. Go find the remnant, the ones who
made it back, the ones still standing, and tell
them this. Who is left among you who saw this
house in its former glory? How do you see it
now? Is it not as nothing in your eyes? And this
isn't a rhetorical question. God already knows
the answer. They are. They're comparing. And
the comparison is killing them. Because when
you measure what you're building now against
what you had before, you always come up short.
Why? Because the past always has better lighting.
The memory will always be grander than the rubble.
But here's what God says next. This is where
the whole thing pivots. Yet now be strong, O
Zerubbabel, declares the Lord. Be strong, O Joshua,
son of Jehoshadak, the high priest. Be strong,
all of you people of the land, declares the Lord.
Work, for I am with you, declares the Lord of
hosts. Three times, be strong. Not because this
building is impressive. Not because the plan
is going well. Not because morale is high. Be
strong, the Lord of hosts says, because I am
with you. The glory of the second house is not
going to come from the size of the stones. It's
going to come from the presence of God. So, close
your eyes. For a moment. Come with me. You're
standing in the rubble. It's early morning. The
sun hasn't cleared the Mount of Olives yet, but
the light is starting to catch the dust hanging
in the air. Your hands are rough. Limestone dust
is caked under your fingernails. Your back aches.
from hauling blocks that are smaller than the
ones your grandfather described. But they certainly
feel heavy enough to make you wonder, is any
of this actually worth it? You look around, and
there's Zerubbabel, the governor. He's standing
near the eastern wall, and he's not giving orders.
He's just staring at the foundation like he's
trying to will it into being something more than
it is. Joshua, the high priest, is here too in
robes that used to be white, but now they're
staying the color of the construction site. He's
holding a scroll, probably trying to remember
what measurements were even supposed to be for
the Holy of Holies. The dimensions don't matter
much when you don't have the gold to plate it
or the skill to carve the cherubim anyway. And
then there are those old men. Ones who were there.
The ones who saw Solomon's temple before Babylon
had torched it. They're standing off to the side
and they're not helping. They're just watching
and they're weeping. One of them keeps saying
it out loud. It was taller. The doors were wider.
I mean, you could just feel it when you walked
into it. And you want to stop and turn to them
and tell them to shut up. Because we're trying
here. You're doing the best with what you've
got. But grief, friends, you know this is contagious.
And now you begin to wonder. It's a point. I
mean, if this is all we can build. If this is
the best we could do after 70 years of exile,
after all of the waiting and all of the prayers
and all of the promises, maybe we should have
just stayed in Babylon. At least there, we weren't
haunted by what used to be. And Haggai shows
up, the prophet, the old man, with the word from
God, and he doesn't bring blueprints. He doesn't
bring funding. He doesn't bring cedar logs from
Lebanon or a skilled craftsman from Tyre. He
brings a message. I'm with you. That's it. That's
the promise. Not this building will rival Solomon's.
Not all the nations of the world will be impressed.
Not... you'll get the glory back. Just, I am
with you. Somehow, that's supposed to be enough.
Friends, the reading of the word this morning
from the prophet Haggai, second chapter of his
prophecy, beginning verse one. In the seventh
month, on the twenty -first day of the month,
the word of the Lord came by the hand of Haggai
the prophet. Speak now to Zerubbabel, the son
of Shittiel, the governor of Judah, and to Joshua,
the son of Jehozadek, the high priest, and to
all of the remnant of the people, and say, Who
is left among you as saw this house in its former
glory? How do you see it now? Is it not as nothing
in your eyes? Yet now be strong, O Zerubbabel,
declares the Lord. Be strong, O Joshua, son of
Jehozadak, the high priest. Be strong, all of
you, the people of the land, declares the Lord.
Work, for I am with you. According to the covenant
I have made with you when you came out of Egypt,
my spirit remains in your midst. Fear not. For
thus says the Lord of hosts, yet once more in
a little while, I will shake the heavens of the
earth and the sea and the dry land. And I will
shake all of the nations so that the treasures
of all of the nations shall come in. And I will
fill this house with glory, said the Lord of
the hosts. Silver is mine. The gold is mine,
declares the Lord of hosts. The latter glory
of this house shall be greater than the former,
says the Lord of hosts. And in this place I will
give peace. declares the Lord of hosts, ascends
the reading of the word. We can hear that. For
standing there listening to Haggai, we're not
sure we believe it yet, but we pick up our hammers
anyway. Because the God who brought you out of
Egypt is still the God standing in the rubble
with you. The God whose spirit hovered over the
waters at creation is the same spirit that remains
in your midst. And maybe, just maybe, glory doesn't
come from getting it back to what it once was.
Maybe glory comes from showing up anyway. and
trusting that God can fill a second house the
same way he filled the first. Not because you're
impressive, not because the building is magnificent,
but because he is with you. So let me ask you
a question. What are you comparing? What's the
thing you're trying to rebuild right now that
doesn't measure up to what it used to be? What's
the temple in your life that looks like nothing
compared to the glory days? Maybe it's your marriage.
You remember what it felt like in the beginning,
the excitement, the ease, the way you couldn't
wait to see each other, and now it's work. It's
counseling appointments and hard conversations
and trying to remember why I said I do in the
first place. And some days, just like those folks
in the rubble, you begin to wonder if the effort
is even worth it because it will never be like
it once was. Maybe it's your faith. You used
to feel something when you prayed. Used to hear
God's voice. I mean, clear as a bell. Used to
open up your Bible and it felt alive. And now?
Now it's just discipline. Now it's showing up
the church out of habit. Now it's going through
the motions and wondering if the glory ever really
was there. Or if you've just been imagining it
all along. Maybe it's your body. You used to
be stronger, faster. You could work all day and
still have energy left. Now you're taking pills
for things you didn't even know you had. And
the mirror shows you a different version of yourself
that doesn't seem to match the one of memory.
Maybe it's your calling. You used to believe
that God had something significant for you to
do. You had vision. You had fire. And now you're
stacking stones in a construction site that looks
like an insult compared to what you thought your
life was supposed to be. And here is what Haggai
is preaching to. The thing that kills us. isn't
the rubble. It's the memory. Those old men, they
weren't crying because this temple was so ugly.
They were crying because it's not Solomon's temple.
They were trapped by comparison. And comparison
always, always, always leaves you discouraged.
But here's what we need to see. God isn't interested
in replicating what was. Guys, read the Bible.
He never is. God is always interested in doing
something new. Let me show you what God says
in verse 3. Who is left among you who saw this
house in its former glory? How do you see it
now? Is it not as anything in your eyes? God's
not disputing their assessment. And he's not
saying, actually, if you squint, it actually
looks pretty good. He's acknowledging the reality.
Yeah, it's smaller. Yeah, it's less impressive.
Yeah, compared to Solomon's temple, this thing
looks like nothing. But then, this is the turn.
He says, yet now be strong. Work, for I am with
you. Glory isn't coming from the size of the
stones. Glory is coming from the presence of
God. And that's the lie we believe when we get
stuck in comparison. We think the glory was in
what we had instead of who's in us. Solomon's
temple wasn't glorious because of the cedar or
the gold. It was glorious because God's presence
filled it. When the priests couldn't stand in
certain places to minister because the glory
cloud was so thick. It wasn't about bad architecture.
That was about godly presence. And here's what
God is saying through Haggai. My presence is
not contingent on your ability to rebuild what
you've lost. My spirit. remains in your midst,
whether the building is impressive or not. Now,
let me take a second and dig into the theology
here, because to me, this is where it gets really
good. God says in verse five, my spirit remains
in your midst, fear not. That word remains in
Hebrew is omadet. And it means standing, abiding,
or continuing. But what's interesting is it is
in the present tense reality. Not my spirit will
be with you someday when you finally get it together.
Not my spirit was with you back then when things
seemed better. No, my spirit is standing in the
middle of this rubble with you right now. And
then, God reaches all the way back to Exodus.
According to the covenant I made with you when
you came out of Egypt. Why does he bring up Egypt?
Because that's where the whole covenant relationship
started. That is where God said, I am with you
and I will bring you out. And what did they have
in Egypt? Nothing. They were slaves. They had
no temple, no city, no land. All they had was
a promise. And God is reminding them and us.
Covenant has never been about what we can build.
It's always been about what God promises to do
in the midst of our inability. The very same
God who led them through the Red Sea with nothing
but a cloud and a pillar of fire is the same
God standing in this construction site in 520
BC saying, I'm still here, you keep working.
Then God says something a little wild in verse
6. Yet once more in a little while. I will shake
the heavens and the earth and the sea and the
dry land, and I will shake all nations so that
the treasures of all nations shall come in, and
I will fill this house with glory. Now, here's
where we need to be careful. This isn't just
about Zerubbabel's temple. This is actually eschatological.
It's pointing forward, right? The writer of Hebrews
in the New Testament. picks up this exact passage
in Hebrews chapter 12, 26 and 27, says this shaking
is about the coming of the kingdom. The final
removal of everything that can be shaken so that
what cannot be shaken remains. In other words,
God isn't just talking about this building project
in 520 BC. He's actually talking about the whole
trajectory of redemptive history amongst humans.
And he's saying, I'm not done. The story isn't
over. And the glory you're mourning is nothing
compared to what's coming. Verse nine, the latter
glory of this house. shall be greater than the
former. How? How could this little rebuilt temple
ever be greater than Solomon's? Because 500 years
later, a man named Jesus, God in the flesh, would
walk into this temple complex and say, destroy
this temple and in three days I will raise it
up. And he wasn't talking about King Herod's
renovations. He was talking about his body. The
latter glory isn't greater because of what they
built. It's greater because of who showed up.
God didn't just dwell in the temple. God became
the temple. Emmanuel, God with us. That is the
trajectory that Haggai is pointing to. That is
the hope that can sustain them in the midst of
the rubble. So what do we do with this? Here's
the word for us today. Show up anyway. Stop comparing
what you're building now to what you had before.
Stop measuring your present faithfulness against
some imagined glory. Stop waiting for conditions
to be just right or the resources to be adequate
or the vision to be clear. God is saying, be
strong, work, for I am with you. Friends, That
is not God's inspiration for you. That is a command.
Be strong. Not because you feel strong. Not because
the odds are in your favor. Not because you know
how it's going to turn out. No. Be strong. Why?
Because I am with you. And then, work. Not wait
until you feel motivated. Not strategize until
you have a full proof plan. Work. Pick up the
hammer. Stack the stones. Do the next thing in
front of you. Even if it doesn't look impressive.
Even if the old men are weeping over what used
to be. Even if you're not sure the second house
will amount to anything at all. Because here's
the promise, the glory isn't your job. Presence
is his. Your job is to show up. His job is to
fill what you build with his presence. And the
latter glory, the glory that's coming, the glory
that walked into the temple in the personage
of Jesus, the glory that's going to shake the
heavens and the earth one more time, that glory
will be greater than anything you lost. So, hear
this today. The walls may be up, but the work
is not done. The word has returned, now the temple
rises. Doesn't have to be impressive. It just
has to be obedient. God's spirit remains in your
midst. The covenant, friends, still holds. And
the latter glory, the glory of Emmanuel, God
with us, always be greater than the former. So,
be strong. Work. Because he is with you. Amen?
Amen. Hey, wherever this found you today, knees
deep in the wreckage or standing in the half
-built courtyard of your own life, hear this.
God does some of his best work in places that
don't look like much. And he's not asking to
rebuild the past you've lost. He's asking you
to trust the presence that still stands with
you even when the stones are smaller and the
future feels thin. The glory was never yours
to manufacture. The strength was never yours
to muster. Your part is to show up. His part
is to fill the house. So be strong. Do the next
fateful thing. And don't you forget, spirit remains
in your midst. Now, before we go, let me speak
plainly from this little bitty church in Oklahoma,
this whole thing you're listening to. It's just
me, a microphone, and a congregation that still
believes grace travels through the static. We
put these little services out because somebody
out there might need a word, same way we needed
it once. So, if you'd like to throw your like
in the offering plate, well, that helps keep
the porch light on. And if you want to know when
we're having church again, go on and tie that
subscribe button. That way, you'll hear the church
bells when we ring them next Sunday morning.
Until then, friend. Walk in the rubble with courage.
May His presence be your strength. I'll see you
next time. Listen up, saints. This ain't no live
stream gospel show. We're preaching under the
tin roof tonight. You want to keep this fire
burning? Then toss that like right into the plate.
It tells the angels this old tent's still full.
Come on now, throw it in the plate.